Awaken: Obelisk

Audio version

The audio version uses the following sounds and music:

The narrators were generated using ElevenLabs (with whom I have no affiliation).

Text version

Intro

Welcome back to Awaken, the show that brings the unknown a little too close for comfort. I’m your host, Harlan Shadows. Tonight, we’re diving into a story submitted by a listener who’s asked to stay anonymous. It starts out in the ordinary, on a routine train ride, with a familiar face… until something deeply unsettling begins to take shape.

As usual, my trusted co-host Dominic will haunt the airwaves by reading this chilling account. So sit back, turn down the lights, and prepare yourself — you may never look at the person across from you quite the same way again.

Letter

Dear Harlan,

These events started about a month ago while I was on the train on my way back home from work. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like any other day. Across from me on the train sat my colleague, Helmer, who lived near me. We'd had lunch together a couple of times as colleagues do, but we were not exactly close. I was on the phone with my dear friend Lars, and I had seen in the reflection in the window behind Helmer that he was swiping away on Tinder. As I threw a glance in his direction though, a large, grey, human-sized obelisk had suddenly taken his place. In a blink it was gone and Helmer was back in his seat. No one else seemed to notice anything strange, so I chalked it up to stress or an oncoming migraine and shrugged it off.

I was wrong. During the following weeks, every time me and Helmer were on the train heading home, the phenomenon repeated itself. From what I could tell it seemed to increase in frequency, and each time the obelisk appeared to linger just a tiny bit longer. Furthermore, I could swear it was shrinking a little bit each time. Still, no one else on the train seemed to notice.

Finally, a week ago today, the obelisk returned as it always does, and this time Helmer never seemed to reappear no matter how long I stared. The train passed his stop and mine as I was transfixed. I got a strange impulse to stand up and approach it. At this point, it had shrunk to about the size of a milk carton so I picked it up easily enough. It felt somewhat heavy, firm but yielding, and slightly warm to the touch. For some reason, I brought it home with me.

Helmer didn't show up for work the following day, or any day since then. No one seems to miss him, no one asks where he is. When I checked the company website he was no longer listed as an employee. The obelisk sits on my bedside table, its the last thing I see when I go to bed and the first thing I see when I wake up. I've taken to picking it up several times each day, each time feels exactly the same as when I first picked it up on the train.

When I hold the obelisk up to my ear, it feels like I'm hugging a loved one and I can hear the sound of a faint heartbeat. I'm spending more and more time with it, whenever I'm away from home I daydream about coming back to it, feeling it, petting it. I don't think I've ever loved anyone the way I love Helmers obelisk.

Earlier tonight, someone rang my doorbell. When I opened the door, for just a moment, a large grey obelisk stood outside my apartment. After I blinked, my good friend Lars was standing there. He said he was worried about me since I wasn't picking up the phone. I told him things have never been better and invited him in for a beer!

Lars has gone home, though we've got plans to go out this weekend! You know that fluttering feeling you get in your gut when you finally kiss your crush for the first time? That doesn't begin to describe my feelings of elation and excitement! I wonder if Lars' obelisk will feel the same as Helmers.

Outro

Sometimes, all it takes is a brief glance away, and the familiar becomes the unknown. To our listeners, thanks for joining us tonight. Be careful next time you find yourself in a quiet moment with a friend… sometimes, there’s more than just shadows waiting in your periphery.

And keep sending in your stories, if you dare. Until next time, stay Awaken.

Last modified: 2024-11-13 09:42:12